


Kidnap and Revenge

by johnsarmylady



Series: Tales of Young Sherlock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kid!Lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnsarmylady/pseuds/johnsarmylady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some strange goings on in the Holmes household. A glimpse into the past in 2 x 221B format</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kidnap

It wasn’t often that he was able to sneak up on his intended target, the young man in question being far too sharp witted, and his hearing too keen by half.

Today though, he seemed preoccupied, as he made his way across the vast lawn of the manor house, towards the shrubbery surrounding the lake.

Watching from his vantage point, he noted route the boy had taken, and watched as he carefully set down his collection of jars.  It seemed that today he would be hunting bugs and insects.

Gathering up the necessary equipment, the watcher made his way towards the back door, being careful not to alert the other occupants of the house to his intentions. Keeping out of the budding entomologist’s peripheral vision, he walked casually but carefully towards fragrant lilac bushes that skirted the water’s edge.

When he was sure he was close enough, he gently opened the sheet he had been carrying, and in one swift movement flung it over the young boy’s head, grabbing him firmly around the waist and lifting him off the ground.

“Now young Sherlock,” he chuckled. “You’re coming with me.  I should get a fair ransom for you!”

But the boy in his arms squirmed and wriggled like a ferret, and the two of them toppled over, both giggling fit to burst.


	2. Revenge

Stealthily the shadowy figure crept down the hallway, careful in the darkness to avoid the ornamental tables with their vases of flowers and crystal bowls of pot-pourri.

A careless step onto a creaking floorboard caused a heart stopping moment of fear as the possibility of discovery loomed large, but all remained quiet, and only the ticking of the grandfather clock disturbed the midnight hush.

Approaching the closed bedroom door, the would-be assailant tested the weight of the weapon in his hand and gripped the handle tightly, ready to use it if the need arose. The well oiled hinges made no sound as the door swung gently open.

In the faint light creeping through a crack in the curtains, he could see the sleeping figure of the room’s lone occupant as he stepped lightly towards the bed.

With his free hand he reached into his pocket for the length of rope he had stowed there earlier, checking the slip knot he had tied in one end. Then, with infinite care, he slipped the noose over his sleeping victim’s wrists.

When he was quite ready he leapt onto the bed, pulling the rope tight and slapping his sword down hard on the pillow next to his captive’s head.

“Aha, Master Mycroft,” he yelled with glee. “You’ve been caught by Captain Sherlock, bold buccaneer!”


End file.
